


Wake-Up Call

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley's Century-Long Nap (Good Omens), M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 00:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Aziraphale receives a message, and a lot more besides.





	Wake-Up Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizmo/gifts).

Aziraphale only knows that Crowley has woken up when he receives a message. It just says _Come see me. - C_ and an address. Aziraphale still doesn't feel great about the holy water incident, but almost thirty years' distance has dulled it somewhat. Crowley didn't try again, to Aziraphale's knowledge, just went back to sleep, as he'd been doing for almost seventy years prior to that event.

Aziraphale has slept once since the Garden. It didn't agree with him.

Aziraphale arrives at the address and knocks; Crowley, of course, opens his own door, wearing a dressing gown, because propriety isn't Crowley's style. "Angel," he says, and the smile on his face makes Aziraphale's heart speed up in a very peculiar manner.

"Glad to see you up and about," Aziraphale says, and Crowley steps back, waving him in. "I trust you're well-rested."

He sees just a glimpse of Crowley's front parlor, but then Crowley is on him, pushing him up against the wall. "All rested up," Crowley says, in a purr that makes Aziraphale _feel_ things. In _places_. "And ready to wear you out."

"Crowley-" is all the request for information that Aziraphale gets out before Crowley kisses him.

Aziraphale does have questions for him that he would like answered, but Crowley keeps kissing him. The kissing seems more important, and certainly more enjoyable; Aziraphale sets his questions aside for a later time, driven to it by Crowley grinding his cock against Aziraphale's leg, the heat of his body warming Aziraphale to his core. 

Aziraphale is faced with a choice. He has utter control of his body, and if he doesn't want this to happen, he can make it so it is physically impossible. He knows that if he doesn't do that, he's going to end up seeing this all the way through, even as confused as he is right at the moment as to Crowley's reasoning. He probably should just stay impassable and try to clear this all up.

His dick, having just manifested, doesn't agree.

Crowley lifts him up and carries him bodily to the sofa, which Aziraphale didn't even know he could do. It's hard to complain about it too much, because Crowley immediately lets his dressing gown fall to the floor and climbs on top of him. Crowley is wearing nothing underneath, and his cock is standing at attention, rising from a nest of red curls, and Aziraphale can't be held responsible for the way he reaches out and grabs it, because it just looks so inviting, and Crowley is already clearly trying to move this in a certain direction, a direction that Aziraphale has gone before, only not with Crowley, and-

"That's it, angel," Crowley says, as Aziraphale strokes him. "Been waiting for this for decades."

That's an interesting turn of phrase, but something Aziraphale can worry about later. "What do you want, my dear?" he asks, and it comes out gentle even in the midst of all this.

"I need you to fuck me," Crowley says. "Right here, just like this."

"Just a moment," Aziraphale says, letting him go so he can work on the flies of his pants. Men's trousers are getting steadily less complicated, but right now they seem prohibitively confusing.

Crowley snaps his fingers, and Aziraphale is naked underneath him. "You can thank me later," Crowley says. Aziraphale wants to protest, but then Crowley is kneeling up, his hand on Aziraphale's cock to hold it in place as he begins to sink down onto it. He's hot and slicked, ready for it, and Aziraphale gasps as he is engulfed; it feels more like that, like Crowley is taking him instead of the other way around.

Crowley may have been waiting for decades, but Aziraphale feels like he's been waiting for this since the dawn of time. He's wanted Crowley for so long, in every form he can get him, and this is all horribly backwards but if it needs to start here, it starts here. They can worry later about dinners and holding hands and courting properly; Aziraphale sees no reason they can't have those later.

Except that they are an angel and a demon and not supposed to be fraternizing at all, but Crowley is erasing the distinction with every movement of his hips.

Crowley is all bones and always has been, but Aziraphale still finds a nice place to get a grip on him, short fingernails digging into the skin of his thighs. He can't seem to look away from the expression on Crowley's face, the sheer, uncomplicated pleasure, almost like relief. He's riding Aziraphale like there's no hurry, like he's just enjoying it to enjoy it, and Aziraphale can't get over how beautiful he looks doing it.

They stay like that for the longest time, until Crowley's movements get faster, Aziraphale's grip tighter. Aziraphale gets a hand around Crowley's cock, stroking it quickly, knowing he can't take much more and wanting it to be as good for Crowley as possible. Crowley gasps, and just like that he's coming, covering Aziraphale with it. Aziraphale thrusts up a few more times, so close, right on the edge.

"Come on, angel," Crowley sighs. "Let me feel you come, darling, I've been waiting for so long."

Aziraphale feels it hit him, and he groans, spilling himself inside Crowley. He slumps against the sofa as it rolls through him, leaving him spent and tired; Crowley drapes himself across Aziraphale, and the weight is welcome, grounding.

"That was even better than the first time," Crowley says contentedly, as they bask together in the afterglow.

"What are you talking about?" Aziraphale says.

"The time you came by," Crowley says. He frowns at Aziraphale's confused expression. "You remember. You brought oysters, and then we-"

"Apart from that time in St. James' Park, I haven't seen you since you went to sleep," Aziraphale protests.

"Oh shit," Crowley says after a pause. Another pause. "That would explain a few things."

"Why did you assume I visited you previously?" Aziraphale says.

"I think it was a dream," Crowley says, a look of bewilderment coming over his features. "You came here with a whole tray of oysters, and then we-" He makes a hand motion.

"You had a lewd dream about me?" Aziraphale says, shocked.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at him. "I just let you come inside me," he says. "You're not allowed to clutch your pearls now."

"So this was all a misunderstanding, then?" Aziraphale says, and he can't say why he's disappointed, just that he definitely is.

"Would that be so bad?" Crowley says. "Maybe the pretenses were a little false, but I thought you had a good time."

Aziraphale can't handle the hurt in his voice; he grabs Crowley's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I had a wonderful time, my dear," he says. "It was a bit sudden, but it was splendid."

"Good," Crowley says. He adjusts them a little, getting comfortable. "Any good books come out lately?"

"You don't like books," Aziraphale says.

"But you like books," Crowley says. "Tell me what you enjoyed."

"Oh, alright," Aziraphale says, because he doesn't need much convincing for most things today, apparently. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and listens to him talk, looking uninterested in the literary part but tracking the movements of Aziraphale's hands. It feels nice, accustomed, like little time has passed.

Crowley falls asleep while Aziraphale is talking, but luckily for Aziraphale, it's much shorter this time. A hundred years would be entirely too much time to wait for a repeat performance.


End file.
